Homecoming
by CatS81
Summary: A power cut provides the perfect opportunity for Boyd and Grace to explore some heartfelt revelations....


**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit :)

**Pairing**: Boyd/Grace.

**Rating**: T/M for language, adult themes.

**Spoilers**: Series 8, 'End Game'.

**A/N**: This is purely and shamelessly self-indulgent fluff/smut and comes with its very own cold shower warning – my pregnancy hormones are obviously working overtime! :) For those who are following 'The Ashes of a Dove', I promise I'm working on it...or at least, I'm trying to, the muse is being less than cooperative at the moment...but I'll try and get the next chapter posted asap. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my little foray into fantasy land....

Grace Foley swore loudly in surprise as her softly lit office was plunged suddenly into an oppressive darkness, her reading lamp abruptly extinguished, her computer an immediate void of silence, the visible light through the glass partitions of her room blinking into oblivion. Without thinking she stood up from her chair, abandoning her reading glasses on her desk as she stumbled at its edges, wincing as the sharp wooden lengths dug harshly into her thigh.

"Grace?" Peter Boyd's disembodied voice called from across the expanse of the corridor, her name leaving his lips after a torrent of frustrated expletives. "You alright?"

"Fine," she shouted back, even as she frowned into the blackness, her palm rubbing firmly against the outer curve of her leg, trying to dull the pain. "Is it a power cut, do you think?"

"It'd be just our luck if it was, wouldn't it?"

Grace laughed. "You were close to finishing too, then?"

"I had one more paragraph to go, one more bloody paragraph, and I'm not even sure I saved what I had," he groaned, his voice edging closer to her position as she listened. "Stay put, alright? I'll go and see if those morons at the front desk can tell us anything useful."

"Be nice, Boyd," she warned, her smile broadening as she heard him mutter beneath his breath, his solid footsteps moving away from her, and she inched her way forward in the direction of her couch, dropping heavily onto its soft cushions with a deep sigh. The bullpen had long since been abandoned by the Cold Case squad's junior officers, their excuses for not working late on a bitter winter's evening causing Grace to bear the brunt of their boss' irritable ranting before he had finally given up her office for his own, leaving the profiler to settle comfortably down to her report. Three hours had passed in relative quiet, each cocooned in their own space to concentrate on their respective paperwork, until the office had been rendered unexpectedly lifeless, the lighting and machinery falling deathly silent, the atmosphere immediately altered to one of bleak stillness, and Grace pulled her cardigan closer about her body, feeling herself shiver irrationally despite the reassurances of her intelligent mind.

Momentarily she felt relief flood her chest as she heard Boyd's familiar footfall approaching, his forcefully confident entry into her office despite the darkness, the gentle thud of his solid body as it landed wearily beside hers.

"Arseholes," he breathed vehemently, leaning back against the cushions of the couch as he sought a comfortable position for his limbs.

Grace fought back a grin. "Who?"

"Those tossers at the front desk. Total and complete arseholes."

"Well, surely they're not responsible for the power cut, are they?" she asked, amusement lacing her tone as he sighed testily.

"No...."

"Then I think you're being a little unfair."

"It's not just the electricity, Grace. The heating's out too and it's minus five out there tonight."

She shrugged lightly. "So, let's go home, then. There's not much more we can do here for the moment."

"Well, therein lies the problem." He laughed humourlessly, frustrated incredulity colouring his words. "You know that brand new electric door system they installed two months back?"

"Yes," Grace replied slowly, dread beginning to fill her chest in anticipation of his next words. "Oh, God….you're not telling me...?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. They've locked themselves shut and no-one has a bloody clue how to open them."

The profiler took a sharp intake of breath, tendrils of panic beginning to snake into her consciousness. "That's ridiculous. I thought they were supposed to release automatically in situations like this?"

"Well, they are, otherwise...."

"It's a fire risk. Exactly, so…."

"Of course, remember we're talking about the Met here, Grace. They probably ordered the cheapest system they could find from Taiwan or China or...."

She held up a hand in the darkness. "Alright, Boyd, I get the picture. We're stuck here."

"For the foreseeable future, so chief arsehole out there says, until they can find an appropriate engineer to fix it."

"They have any ideas on a timescale?"

He yawned. "None at all. Looks like we're here for the duration."

Grace sighed with resignation, allowing her body to fall back against the sofa next to his, trying desperately to suppress the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface of her control. "Great," she breathed irritably, the air leaving her lungs forcefully. "Just bloody great."

Boyd stretched beside her, groaning as the muscles in his back resisted the movement. "You got somewhere you need to be or something, Grace?"

She shot him a withering look despite the darkness. "Not specifically. I just hate the idea of being stranded here in the dark, that's all."

"With only me for company?"

She ignored him. "Slowly catching my death from hypothermia and not knowing when we're going to get out."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic."

"I'm not spending the night in here, Boyd. My back would never forgive me."

She felt him rise to his feet, his spine cracking as he shifted his position, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Where's your booze, Grace?"

She laughed, his attempt to distract her causing an odd warmth to diffuse through her stomach. "And what could possibly make you think I've got booze?"

"Come on. You've got at least one bottle of red secreted in here somewhere, one being a hugely conservative estimate at best."

Boyd strode forward, ignoring her continued noises of protest as he approached her cupboard, the doors opening with a loud clang as he turned the handles, his fingers beginning to probe the neatly ordered shelves, swearing as he disturbed the contents noisily.

"Oh, Boyd, for God's sake, stop it before you break something. Bottom shelf on the left hand side."

He grinned widely before bending down to feel along the said location, his fingers connecting almost instantly with the unmistakable shape of two bottles which he grasped firmly before padding back towards her and reclaiming his position at her side. He tutted with mock disapproval as he laid his palm on top of the first bottle, noting the absence of a cork and shaking his head in the blackness.

"Very classy, Grace. Two bottles for a fiver, was it?"

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Don't be such a bloody snob. You'd be complaining fit to burst if you had to try and work a corkscrew in the dark."

"Oh, I would not. I could do it with my eyes closed."

"Hmm. I'll file that useful piece of information away for future reference."

He rolled his eyes. "You got any glasses hidden away in here or what?"

"Afraid not. There are mugs out by the coffee maker...."

"God, no. I'm not breaking my neck trying to negotiate through Spence's crap for the sake of a mug."

"Swigging from the bottle it is, then."

"Want one each?"

"I'm still planning on driving home later, don't forget, Boyd. Let's just start with one and see how we get on, eh?"

He shrugged silently before unscrewing the top of the bottle and handing it to her, their fingers brushing gently as he did so, his mind registering the softness of her skin before he pulled away. Momentarily he accepted the proffered bottle back from her, bringing the neck to his lips and taking a deep draw before settling back against the couch.

"So," he opened after several minutes had passed in a companionable tranquility, his body angling unconsciously towards hers in the darkness, "are you going to tell me how it went or am I just supposed to guess?"

Grace suppressed a sigh, aware the answer she was about to give would be deliberately oblique. "How what went?"

"Are you being serious? It's bloody hard to read you in the dark."

Despite her misgivings, Grace felt herself smile. "I just...I didn't realise you'd remembered, that's all."

Boyd let out an incredulous breath before reaching for her hand, his broad fingers easily covering hers, the pad of his thumb caressing her skin, the landscape of her delicate bones. "Grace...."

She willed herself not to shiver at the unexpectedness of his touch, the soft exhalation of her name into the obsidian stillness. "I....It was fine, Boyd...." The words were cloying in her throat and she took a deep breath, trying to invoke calm to her bloodstream.

"That's all?"

She sighed softly. "The tests all looked good. They want to see me again in three months just to keep an eye on me but...the signs are positive."

"So why don't you sound happier, then? Sounds like they've effectively given you the all-clear."

She laughed harshly, mirthlessly. "I'm a long way from that, Boyd. A long way."

"Well, it's a step in the right direction, isn't it? I mean...."

Grace squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I know. It's better than the alternative."

"So...?"

"It's just...hard to live your life from check-up to check-up, that's all." She forced a deliberate brightness to her tone. "But I'm getting used to it."

"Well, good. Because this team is way too small for another depressive, Grace. Just keep that in mind."

She smiled, trying to ignore the thundering of her heart as he continued to toy with her fingers, their digits sliding easily over each others', alternately interlacing and separating, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her wrist before tracing once more her knuckles. "I thought you hated my so-called 'perpetually irritating' optimism, anyway?"

"Only your annoying habit of being determined to see the best in people who are clearly total shit bags."

"Care to give me some examples?"

"There's too many to count, Grace."

"Well, we've probably got all night, you know."

He snorted with derision. "That the best idea you've got about how we can pass the time?"

She shrugged, feeling her shoulder connect with his upper arm, reminding her once more of his proximity. "It's either that or 'I Spy'."

"You're hilarious."

"Well, come on, then, since you're obviously desperate to share your own ideas with the rest of the class...."

He grinned lopsidedly into the darkness, feeling his pulse rate quicken. "Hmm. I might have one or two, yeah."

Grace suppressed a surprised gasp at the unmistakably suggestive edge to his words, her heart beating a furious rhythm against her ribcage as his fingers continued to glide over hers, her nerve endings tingling at the unfamiliar sensation. For several moments, she could concentrate on nothing but the sound of her own uneven breathing, the shaking inhalations of her lungs as she tried desperately to regain control over her body. _It can't be how it sounds_, she thought firmly. _This is Boyd, for God's sake, he would never....He doesn't think of me that way, he...._

"Grace...," he murmured softly, interrupting the inevitably depressive flow of her thoughts, his body shifting beside hers to face her in the blackness. Grace forced herself to swallow, her throat at once bitingly coarse as she struggled to push the words past her vocal chords.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she said, the certainty of her tone surprising her despite the achingly familiar yearning of her body for his.

He grinned boyishly. "Don't think what's a good idea?"

She sighed wearily at his deliberate obtuseness. "Boyd...."

"Any particular reason why not?" he asked, relenting instantly.

_Because I don't want you to hurt me. Because I've been in love with you for so long that I don't think I could stand it if you did. Because I don't believe you could ever find me attractive. Because I...._

"Grace?" he prompted at her lack of response, feeling his features beginning to crease into a concerned frown.

"I just....We've known each other for so many years, Peter, probably too long. I just feel like maybe that ship has sailed, you know?"

"Or maybe it's just taken me till now to realise it was a ship I wanted to be on."

Grace shook her head, disbelief consuming every pore of her body, her need for self-preservation strangling the flickering embers of hope perpetually present in her chest. "I'm hardly your normal type, though, am I? You've got to admit that, at least."

He laughed briefly, incredulously. "Based on what?"

She blew out a breath, unable to prevent the deep-rooted tendrils of jealousy from colouring her tone. "Based on Jess Worrall. Based on Sarah. Based on...."

"And what makes you so different from them?"

"Are you being serious?"

"Why would I not be?"

"Alright." She paused, pondering briefly how to phrase her next sentence. "They're feisty, vibrant, attractive young women who...."

Boyd laughed again to interrupt her, unable to believe the apparent depths of her obliviousness "So, how do you think I see you, then, Grace?"

She exhaled with frustration. "That's just the point, Boyd. I've never known. You've never given me any indication that you...."

"That I, what? That I find you a more than worthy combatant in an argument? That I respect your intelligence, your self-assurance, your...?"

"No. I know all those things, I just...."

He leant towards her, his voice dropping in volume as it deepened in intensity. "That there have been times when your rationality, your sense of calm, have been the only things keeping me sane? When your compassion has stopped me from falling over a cliff of my own despair; is that what you want to hear?"

Grace felt her eyes drift closed as he spoke, the breath rushing from her body as her heart threatened to explode through her chest. "Boyd...."

"That you've never given up on me. That you always believe the best about me, even when I consistently prove you wrong." He paused, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek, his fingertips stroking the softness of her skin, learning its feel, its form, its texture. "And, fundamentally...and on a strictly base level, Grace...that sometimes I only have to smell your perfume and I'm as hard as a fucking rock."

_Oh, God, I had no idea...._ She took a sharp intake of breath at his words, her body flooding with warmth, with desire, his mouth covering hers in a searing kiss before she could protest further, her resistance melting completely away as his tongue traced a path across her lower lip, seeking the access which she readily granted. They moaned simultaneously as the kiss deepened, Grace feeling a decade of tension coiling deliciously in her stomach as his tongue slid easily over hers, lapping and tasting, hungrily learning the landscape of each other's mouths, pausing only momentarily for breath before continuing in their passionate exploration. For several moments, Grace could barely believe the sensory information exploding through her body to her brain, the undeniable identity of the man whose lips were now caressing her neck, laving her skin with his ravenous mouth, whose hands were pushing her gently back against the soft cushions of the couch. _Can this really be happening?_ she thought wildly, even as she heard herself groan, his palm closing firmly about her breast, trying to feel through the layers of her clothes. Within seconds his hand had slipped beneath the soft cotton of her top, his skin warm against hers as his fingers sought the path back to her breasts, her breath coming in quivering gasps as he teased her nipple through the lace of her bra, the movements causing arousal to course hotly through her bloodstream and pool between her thighs.

"Boyd...," she managed hoarsely as his mouth found its way back to hers, the weight of his body pushing her further into the sofa upholstery, his erection pressing insistently against her stomach.

"What?" he panted into her ear, his tongue tracing its outline, making her shiver as he breathed the question into her body.

"Just....need to be sure....that you...."

"Grace, trust me," he whispered, kissing her roughly, deeply as his hand pushed firmly at the material of her skirt until he could reach beneath it, his fingers tracing an agonising route across her thigh before finding their target, her throaty moans encouraging him as he slid his digits beneath her underwear. "Oh, Jesus...."

Grace felt her remaining hesitancy evaporate as he expertly touched her, his dexterous fingers circling and caressing in an achingly pleasurable rhythm, her hips moving of their own accord in counterpoint as her body drove higher, long forgotten muscles singing as he edged her closer towards release. She reached for him then, her shaking fingers loosening his belt, unfastening his trousers, forcing them roughly over his hips along with his boxer shorts, before curling about the thickness of his arousal, stroking insistently, thrilled by the suddenly uneven timbre of his breathing, the guttural groans escaping his lips. Momentarily he had bunched her skirt about her hips, their efforts combining to divest her of her underwear, his body positioning between her legs as he leant forward to kiss her again.

"Grace?" he queried softly into the darkness, his hips stilling before their bodies could merge together, a sudden need for final confirmation of her desires filling his entire being. _Once we cross this line...._

"Don't stop," she breathed huskily, her hands moving to caress his back beneath his shirt, encouraging him ever closer. "Please, Peter, I want you....I've always wanted you...."

He let out a final, relieved groan at her words, his hips pushing forward, his entire body tingling with anticipation, a red haze of arousal focussing all of his senses to a single, aching point.

"Superintendent?"

Unrivalled, bitter frustration tore through Boyd at the sound of his rank being called loudly from outside the office door and he swore intensely against Grace's neck, unable to believe the harsh reality of their predicament, breathing his heartfelt irritation in uneven waves against her skin. "Oh, you must be fucking joking, you bastards. You total and utter bastards."

Grace groaned softly in agreement before chuckling quietly with incredulous resignation, placing a calming hand against the lower portion of his stomach to halt his forward motion and taking a breath to speak before he silenced her with a lingering kiss.

He pushed insistently against her palm to regain his former primed position. "Do you think if we ignore him he'll go away?" he whispered quietly.

"Wishful thinking," she murmured, placing her hands firmly on his hips to ensure the continued separation of their bodies.

"Superintendent Boyd?" the disembodied voice sounded once more. "I just wanted to let you know that the power's...."

As if on cue, the room became bathed in light once more and Boyd found himself squinting against the seemingly harsh glare, his pupils rebelling firmly against the sudden brightness. He caught Grace's gaze briefly, registering the beautiful flush of her skin before her eyes fluttered closed, a rueful smile playing across her lips as he moved regretfully away from her body, fighting every instinct to bury himself inside her, annoyance filling every fibre of his being as he rolled away and made to stand.

"Superintendent?"

Growling, Boyd adjusted himself hastily, painfully, fastening his trousers and straightening his shirt, his fingers fumbling for the buttons as he opened the door a mere crack. "What?" he snapped at the uniformed security guard, the younger man's eyebrows rising to his hairline as he took in the policeman's dishevelled appearance, the faint glow infusing his cheeks.

"Just wanted to give you a heads-up about the power coming back on," he said, trying desperately not to smirk lest he become a focus for the older man's infamous wrath. _At least someone got lucky in the power cut, then. Jammy bastard, what the hell do women see in him anyway?_

Boyd had to fight an urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, well, thanks. I think I might have worked that one out for myself."

"Doors should be open in less than an hour, the engineer says. It's a separate system or something...."

"Great." He made to close the door then but the guard's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Doctor Foley in there with you, is she?"

Boyd allowed the words to hang in the air between them, silently debating his response before his irritation suddenly got the better of him. _Fuck it.... _"Just...piss off, would you?" he intoned sharply, closing the door forcefully in the guard's sniggering face, the retreating sounds of the young man's mirth echoing relentlessly off the walls as he made his way back to his station.

Boyd sighed heavily as he turned back towards Grace, his heart pounding as he pondered his next words, the memory of her body beneath his causing his skin to tingle. "Jesus," he said finally, his intended tirade cut off by his companion as she spoke gently from across the room, humour lacing her voice.

"A tenner says it's all over the building by the morning."

He sighed again, despite her apparent lightness, crossing the room to drop beside her on the couch, their bodies flush together. "A tenner says it's all over the _Met_ by the morning, Grace."

She was quiet for several moments then, the atmosphere between them still simmering with unresolved tension, with palpable electricity, yet underlined by a flickering of uncertainty, of previously invisible lines between them having been suddenly and wholly obliterated. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked finally.

Boyd blew out his breath. "About what? Our completely age-inappropriate lack of restraint? Or the fact that I'm so fucking frustrated I'm about ready to kill the wanker who interrupted us?"

She gave him a half smile. "Either suits me."

"Honestly, Grace, when I imagined taking you to bed, I always thought it would be in a literal sense, not...."

"Not on the couch in my office?"

He grinned despite himself. "Well, not for the first time at least."

Grace rolled her eyes good naturedly though she felt herself flush slightly at his words, thrills prickling through her skin as she absorbed them. "So, this...." She gestured between their bodies, "isn't a new thought, then?"

He turned to face her, taking her hand gently in his. "God, no," he said softly, watching her features slacken with relief, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. "How could you think that?"

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "I just never knew you saw me as anything more than a friend and colleague."

"Oh, come on. We used to flirt relentlessly back in the day, we weren't even subtle about it."

"Operative phrase being 'used to'. And besides which, your flirting wasn't exactly limited to just me, was it?" Grace blew out her breath, feeling him sigh in response. "We've known each other more than ten years, Boyd, why didn't you say something before?"

He shrugged. "There never seemed to be a good time; when we met you were recently bereaved, I was recently divorced...."

"And then there was always work. Not to mention other women."

He smiled at the barely hidden venom lacing her tone. "Poor substitutes."

Grace raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Even Sarah?"

"In my defence, you and I were going through a rough patch then, Grace; professionally, personally, we weren't exactly seeing eye to eye." He paused as she dropped her gaze from his, the all too familiar guilt tightening in his stomach. "I know I hurt you."

She shook her head forcefully, trying to dispel the sudden knot in her throat. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Maybe not. But I still want you to know that I wasn't oblivious to how you felt. Whatever impression I might have given you at the time."

Grace was momentarily silent as she squeezed his hand gratefully, the emotion swirling in her chest threatening to overwhelm her before she cleared her throat to address him once more. "So, what changed, Peter? How did we go from being at each other's throats to...?"

Boyd felt his features widen in a grin. "To being rudely interrupted from going at it on your couch?"

She smiled, her body trembling from the memory of his touch, his skin, his arousal pressing insistently against her. "Yeah. And at our age too."

His smile broadened before he sobered, releasing a breath as he stretched back against the cushions, unable to stop tendrils of melancholy from edging his voice. "Everything changed, Grace. First, Luke...,then Stella...,your cancer, Linda Cummings....I just....I woke up one day and I didn't recognise the world I was in."

Grace shifted closer, her palm moving to trace soothing circles on his thigh. "Boyd...."

"And I've accepted there are some things I can't change. I can never get my son back or recover all of that lost time. But with you....I knew I could do something about it and that I'd regret it if I didn't. I just needed the right moment."

She reached up to stroke his cheek, encouraging his face towards hers before kissing him gently, tenderly. "Well...thank God for power cuts, then."

He pulled back briefly to smile at her before kissing her again, his tongue sliding slowly across hers in an agonisingly slow caress, her blood beginning to heat steadily once more as he continued to pleasantly assault her senses, his fingers toying with the hair at the nape of her neck.

"How long before the doors are open?" she asked breathlessly as she reluctantly broke away, feeling her face flush as she registered the fire simmering in his dark eyes.

Boyd grinned, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with the back of his fingers. "About an hour, the guard said."

"More than enough time to pick up from where we left off, then."

His grin widened as he rose to his feet, walking slowly to the door and locking it before gazing intensely back across the room at her. "As long as we don't waste it in talking."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Boyd laughed loudly, joyously as he crossed the room to rejoin her, a sense of peace radiating throughout his entire body to the depths of his soul as he moved to kiss her anew, thrilled by her complete compliance, her form moulding easily to his. _So this is what homecoming feels like_, he mused between pleasured gasps, _and all the time it was right in front of my eyes_. The thought made him smile against her neck before the determined motions of her hand forced all rational notions from his mind. _God, I can't wait to make up for lost time_.

FIN


End file.
